I live in New York, near broadway, and have since I was thirteen. New York is a scary, smoggy place. However, I like it here. Mostly, I sit and I write on my shiny, blue laptop, taking in the scene. I'm slightly more peaceful and observed then most sixteen-year-olds. I've always lived in my brother's shaddow, and now I think some people are starting to notice me more. I've never been popular, never had my five minutes of fame, but, eh, I'm still waiting.

See these are my things DO NOT TOUCH, Phinnias!

Well, this is technically Cass's blog, but I use her account. Cuz I'm lazy and hopeless with social sites. My name's Ricky. I live in New York, no where near where Cass lives. I do know Cass, tho. I'm not a hacker...ever...I wouldn't hack some twelve-year-old girl's account, I'm not evil! Jeez.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Uh. Hi everyone. I am sooooo tired. For new years, I went over to Corbin to see my dad. We stayed up all night, eating extra butter popcorn, drinking Diet Coke, watching MTV, living it up. My dad said it was a releif to not have to work, so he thought he'd have me over. I hadn't seen him in, like, a year, so it was really fun. SM went to bed at ten (Party pooper), but I stayed up. After MTV shut off because a rain storm knocked out the power line at two AM, dad said he'd go Facebook or something so I settled down to read some of my favorite books. (I coulden't help but bring some of my Chabigail horror mysterys along with me to Kentucky. I knew something would happen.) Well, turnes out that Rian was causing the fires unknowledgebly, because Daniel was in his body by night, and it was all Marcy's fault! Who would have known? So, after that, I decided to ring home. Well, who was I to know that they went to bed? So, I basically just listened to my Ipod all night. Fun, fun, fun. Very exciting. The next morning, dad took me to Dunkin Dounuts, and we got a big box of munchkins, and I got coffee, he got expresso. As we ate, he drove me around Corbin. We saw this museam, where KFC was invented. It was fun. I ended up braking into one of the exibits to try and smell what the secret mixture is to his chicken. Dad wasn't to happy about being escorted out by police. So I had to go home. And I'm still tired. Bye.

What is Ricky's Story?

Um, Ricky's story is the story of Ricky. Ricky is a sixteen year old, red-headed, freckled, I-Work-At-Walmart, I-Live-In-New-York, My-Family-Drives-Me-Crazy, My-Girlfriend-Is-Named-Leanna, I-Have-A-Blue-Laptop boy.

Yup. That's kinda it. Before I had this message, I used to have all this inspirational stuff from, like, Chabigail books and Glee and stuff. But I've gone right off that.

Now I'm just another teenager, obsessed with So You Think You Can Dance, lazy, full of anger for my brother, and of course, aspiring writer.

Have we met?

ATTENTION! LEGAL MUMBO-JOMBO X-ING!

All of this stuff is used under copyright. I have to right to use tags such as WEBKINZ, KMG, and all my family's names. I would also like to state that CASS has the final say about what goes out and in to my mailbox, so please NO offensive comments or messages, you will be asked to evacuate the blog. Please note that, since this is not my account, other blogs are not my property and do not try to reach me through them: I will not get your message and it will most likely be deleted. Other blogs are property of Cass and I have no permission to use them without say. I want to notify this: JUST BECAUSE YOU FOLLOW THIS BLOG, THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL FOLLOW YOURS. I can not stress that enough.